Slice of Life
by giuli miadi black
Summary: A collection of one-shots in the Starstruck/Everytime we touch universe.
1. Chapter 1

**The One with the Thanksgiving Reunion**

.

 _Isn't this the best part of breaking up,_

 _Finding someone else you can't get enough of?_

(Liz Phair – _Why Can't I?_ )

.

 _(November 2008)_

Tris had been lying on her bed for the past hour, trying her best to ignore all thoughts about how pathetic it was that she was holed up in her bedroom, reading _The Great Gatsby_ , while her brother was out on a date with Susan – his high school girlfriend, who had _not_ broken up with him when he left Chicago to go to Yale. She and Four had broken up only a month and a half before, after almost three years together, and just thinking about him still hurt enough that she found herself thinking _very seriously_ about going to the supermarket two blocks away, just to buy a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream – which she'd expertly pair with a bunch of sappy rom-coms, just like Hollywood had taught her.

She probably would have, but it was so cold outside that even the two flights on the fire escape that separated her bedroom from Eric's felt like an insurmountable obstacle.

It was dumb luck that Eric's family lived two floors above hers, and both of them saw that as the single reason why they'd become friends so fast – Eric's bedroom, specifically, had seen hours of random conversations, back when they were just getting to know each other. In the short time of an year, they'd grown so close that her afternoons felt oddly empty after he'd moved to Los Angeles, two years before.

He'd tried his best to keep in touch, though. None of her texts went unanswered for more than a few hours, and he'd always find a way to spend at least a few minutes chatting with her on MSN every day. When she'd decided to apply to Juilliard, he'd helped her through the whole process, and when her acceptance letter arrived, he was the first person she called. He'd also been the first person she called when Four broke up with her, and Eric had patiently listened to her during seemingly endless phone calls, supporting her without ever reminding her that he actually hated her ex's guts.

In spite of all that, they hadn't seen each other since his mother's birthday, almost a year earlier, and she missed him – _a lot_.

But he was just two flights of stairs away from her now. Maybe he'd even have some ice cream hidden away in the freezer, and even if he didn't, he'd still be a better company than Ben, Jerry, and Bridget Jones.

She threw the book aside and got up, grabbing her light grey hoodie from the desk chair on her way out of her bedroom. Her parents were in the living room, watching _Anna and the King_ for the umpteenth time, and she hesitated before walking into the room. It was hard not to remember why she and Eric chose to sneak into each other's bedrooms through the fire escape, even during the winter, when the "normal people" approach involved getting past her parents.

"Eric and I are going to watch a movie," she lied, hoping there wouldn't be any follow-up questions – and that Eric was actually home, otherwise she'd have to find somewhere to hide for the next two hours.

Much to her surprise, her mother's reply was an uninterested, "Okay, sweetie," and Tris nearly ran out of the apartment before her father got a chance to say anything that could ruin her plans.

* * *

Eric barely had the chance to react to the sight of his best friend, standing on his doorstep, before she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug.

"God, I missed you."

He pulled her even closer, ignoring the weird rush of anticipation that went through his body when he buried his nose in her hair.

That was still a somewhat new feeling for him. Surely, there had been times, in the three years they'd known each other, when he'd had to pretend there wasn't any sexual tension between them, but that wasn't unexpected, considering they were two teenagers spending way too much time together – _alone_ , more often than not. Still, he'd never actually wanted to _rip her clothes off_ or anything like that.

It all had changed two months earlier. Their relationship had been filled with oversharing and sexual innuendos before, mainly because Eric had no concept of boundaries, so it wasn't all that weird that they'd spent the night exchanging a series of texts including _way too much information_. The unexpected part was that those texts prompted a drunken confession along the lines of 'I'm just super horny right now' and, before they knew it, they were debating whether she'd just cheated on Four.

As it turned out, all those sitcoms they'd watched together were right: you can't _unfuck_ your best friend, even if it happened through text messages – once _that_ line has been crossed, you can't ever go back to being 'platonic'.

"Do you have any ice cream?" She asked, stepping back to look up at him. She seemed to be on the verge of tears, and that was all he needed to understand why she'd just showed up on his doorstep, after one day and a half of radio silence.

"Four?" He asked. She nodded, giving him a sad look, and he sighed. "Tris... you're _eighteen._ You're living in the _second best city in the country._ You should be getting drunk and hooking up with that hot guy from your Drama 101 class, not eating your weight in ice cream and crying over a loser who expected you to give up on _all of your dreams_ for him."

"He didn't _expect me_ to-" She started to protest, but he interrupted her.

"I'm so _not_ having this discussion with you right now," he said, in a tired tone. "All I'm saying is, I'm not letting you wallow. Not today. We haven't seen each other in ages, you barely told me anything about New York, and I have some pretty big news to tell you about, so can we just- Can we just have a Four-free day today? Please?"

She hesitated, biting her lower lip. He watched her intently, hoping she'd understand that he wasn't bluntly ignoring her feelings – for the past six weeks, he'd done nothing but be there for her. He just needed a break from the role of 'supportive best friend'.

Finally, she said, "Fine. But I still want ice cream." She smiled at him. "And for the record, LA is _not_ the best city in the country."

He laughed, taking her hand and pulling her into the apartment. "How would you know? You've never been there."

"Babe, I don't need to go all the way to _California_ to know that the best thing about LA is you."

* * *

"No ice cream," he said, closing the freezer door and turning to look at her, smiling at how legitimately upset that statement had made her look. "We do have beer, though. It's the next best thing."

She rolled her eyes at him. That offer, as tempting as it sounded, felt wrong in so many levels, but she knew he'd have a comeback for every single one of her protests – having a beer with him was nothing compared to attending a college party, and she knew his parents would just say they'd rather have them drinking at home.

Besides, it was Friday night somewhere, wasn't it?

* * *

His bedroom looked exactly the same it did in her memories, frozen forever in the summer of 2006. It was a comforting notion, in a way, considering how much Eric himself had changed since the day he left Chicago – even his accent was different now, and Tris had a hard time remembering he'd once been a regular-looking seventeen-year-old.

He'd always been handsome, enough to be the object of way too many high school crushes, but over the past two years he seemed to have left all teenager awkwardness behind, and Tris was sure he now had girls falling at his feet everywhere he went.

She shook her head, trying to ignore the unwelcome thoughts, and sat on his bed, resting her back against the wall. He took a pack of Marlboros out of his back pocket and sat next to her on the bed.

"Do you mind?" He asked, looking at her like he really cared about her answer. She shrugged, and he cracked the window open, pulling a cigarette out of the pack.

"So... You said you had big news."

He gave her a wide smile, looking more pleased with himself than she'd ever seen him, and sipped at his beer before replying, "Remember that audition I had, a couple of weeks ago? The one for that action movie?"

"Of course I remember. It was all you could talk about for _days_."

He chuckled, deciding to follow his own rules and not to bring up the only thing _she_ had been talking about for the past few weeks.

"Well, guess who's signed a contract for his first movie?"

"Are you _serious_?" She gushed, hugging him as best as she could given their positions on the bed. "Babe, this is _awesome_!"

"I know!" His smile widened, if that was even possible. "I'll be honest, it's one of those shitty movies with a budget that's way too low for the kind of shit they expect to pull off, but it's a role. With actual _lines_!"

She laughed, playfully slapping him on the shoulder. "I told you you'd make it one day!"

He shook his head, still smiling at her. Truth be told, he'd been cast for a very small role that was likely to lose a huge chunk of its already limited screen time, by the time the producers settled on the final cut. It was a far cry from 'making it', they both knew that, but it was a beginning, and Eric definitely needed one of those. He'd been trying to find a way into the industry for two years, and finding nothing but closed doors had been so frustrating that, at times, he'd been tempted to come back to Chicago once his lease expired.

It all had changed when he met Claire, the daughter of a big-shot agent who decided to make him her newest project, for reasons unknown to him. Her first act as his fairy godmother had been getting him a few auditions, and the contract he'd signed on Wednesday afternoon had been the result of one of those.

She'd assured him he wouldn't need her superpowers for much longer. He hoped she was right.

* * *

They spent the next hour or so talking about all the things they hadn't had the chance to tell each other during their time apart – including a long conversation about Eric's 'experiments' with sex and drugs, and and even longer discussion about how their experiences with living alone had been stacking up against each other.

The points in common were obvious: they'd both moved to a huge city halfway across the country, intent on pursuing their acting dreams. In a way, their choices flawlessly matched their personalities, and both of them agreed they'd be miserable if they'd chosen the opposite coast.

That was where the similarities ended, though. Eric had never hidden – not from her, at least – that LA had been a huge let down. Truth be told, he couldn't see himself living anywhere else in the world - he loved the city and the people and the atmosphere, and most of the time it felt like home in a way that Chicago never had. But he'd moved to California with so many expectations, only to find himself stuck in a job he hated to pay the bills for the tiniest apartment ever, which he shared with the world's worst roommate. His acting carreer was years away from even getting started - someone had even misspelled his last name in the files for one of his auditions - and there was exactly one person in the whole city of Los Angeles who he considered his friend.

Tris had once joked that he made it seem like the _Friends_ theme song was about him and his life. He thought she had no idea of how right that statement felt.

She, on the other hand, was living a fairytale. She was in love with the City, Juilliard was exceeding her expectations, and she and her roommate had become instant best friends.

Moreover, she clearly saw New York as her beacon of freedom. Moving out of your parents' house is always a huge step towards personal growth – Eric himself had learned more about responsibility during his first few months in LA than in his whole life – but for Tris it was about much more than maturity. She'd grown up with overbearing parents who controlled her every move, and now that she was free from their judgement, she was also free to do whatever she wanted with her life.

Including, apparently, having a beer with him at ten in the morning.

* * *

They'd already had two bottles of beer each, and Tris was now lying on the bed, with her head on his lap, singing along to _All the Small Things_ while Eric absent-mindedly ran his fingers through her hair. They were listening to an old mix CD he'd found earlier that morning, revelling in all the memories it brought back.

He'd burned that CD in the summer before his senior year, and it quickly became his official 'driving home from school' soundtrack. As a result, he and Tris must have listened through the whole thing about a thousand times.

She'd sing along to _All the Small Things_ every time it came up, and eventually, he started seeing it as _her song_ – he'd even started using it as her ringtone, after he moved out and she started calling him more often.

"What?" She asked, laughing, the second the song ended. Eric shrugged – he wasn't even aware of the way he'd been looking at her.

"I just like it when you sing," he lied. She sat up and turned around to look at him, her face mere inches away from his.

"You're lying," she said, in an accusatory tone. "And now I'm officially curious. What were you thinking about?"

He sighed, looking away from her eyes. He'd rather die than admit to something as silly and straight-up _girly_ as having a special ringtone just for her.

But maybe _that_ admission wouldn't be as horrible, compared to the memories her sudden proximity brought up.

He still remembered every time they'd kissed, during the two final rehearsals and that one final performance, but he'd lost count of how many times he'd _wanted_ to kiss her. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been drawn to her – in all honesty, that was probably the reason why he'd offered her a ride home for the first time – but he'd never felt comfortable acknowledging it, because the circumstances were less than ideal. But now she was single, and although they kept refusing to bring up those texts, that whole conversation made him wonder if she felt the same way about him.

"Well?" Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts, making him look at her again. "Are you _ever_ gonna kiss me, Eric?"

He smiled, leaning in even closer to her, so the tips of their noses touched and his forehead rested on hers. Her eyes were filled with expectation and desire, and he was sure he was looking at her in the exact same way.

He ran his fingers up her arm, smirking at the sight of her eyes fluttering closed and the sound of the contented sigh that escaped her lips. He buried his fingers in her hair, tilting his head just enough to allow their lips to meet.

The moment their lips met was the proverbial last straw, and suddenly they were caught in a wave of desperation, like they both wanted to make up for three years of lusting for each other. Her lips parted to allow him in, and his hands travelled down her body, looking for the hem of her shirt. Soon enough, she was straddling his lap, her nails digging into his scalp while he kissed his way down her neck, his touch sending shivers down her spine as his hands pulled her shirt up.

She pulled away to take her own shirt off for him, and they looked at each other.

"Are you sure?" He asked, his voice barely as whisper. Truth be told, he didn't know exactly which answer he was expecting, because he wanted her _so badly_ – but he was also well aware that having sex with each other might just be the one thing that could ruin their friendship.

She had her own doubts to worry about. Sleeping with Eric felt daunting, his two years of one-night stands making her feel shamefully inexperienced – he would be the second person she'd ever slept with, after all. Not to mention that he deserved better than being her rebound.

Still, all that felt insignificant when compared to the way he made her feel, especially when he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world. So she smiled at him, pulling him in for a kiss.

"Of course I am."

* * *

She wouldn't have ever picked him for a cuddler, so it was a least a bit surprising when he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer and telling her not to go anywhere. For a while, they just laid on his bed, their bodies wrapped around each other, neither of them daring to say anything that could ruin that moment.

The silence had just started to feel uncomfortable when Eric shifted slightly on the bed, looking at her. "We should do this again," he said, his voice transpiring a hint of nervousness, like he was afraid she wouldn't agree with him. She immediately glanced down, which made him chuckle. "I don't mean _now_. Just... whenever we can."

" _Whenever we can_?"

"Yeah. You know. The next time we're at the same city, if we're both still single." He shrugged. "Or maybe in another life, when we're both cats."

She bit her lower lip, trying to come up with a single reason why that would sound like a bad idea. She'd heard a few stories about _benefits_ ruining otherwise happy, everlasting relationships, but she couldn't see her and Eric falling in love or being jealous of each other, so how bad could it be, really?

She raised an eyebrow, giving him a mischievous smile.

"And how do you feel about starting now, love?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Happy Thanksgiving, y'all! The always lovely murmelinchen asked me to write it, and the idea for the beginning just wouldn't leave me, so here it is.

My special thanks to Felyneve, who saved me once again in this one.

I know you're all expecting the sequel to the story. It will exist. One day. It's halfway done, actually, but I wanted to post this one on Thanksgiving (or rather on Black Friday; it's two AM already for me).

Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer** : I was nine when _Titanic_ was released, and I can 100% assure that I am not a prodigy.

* * *

 **The One with the Beginning**

.

 _I knew when we collided_

 _You're the one I have decided_

 _Who's one of my kind_

(Train – _Hey, Soul Sister_ )

.

 _(September 2006)_

The note on the door of the Drama Club room announced that they'd be meeting at the auditorium that afternoon – because Tris clearly wasn't late enough, already.

As she made her way through a maze of hallways and stairwells, she could almost hear Mrs. Calloway scolding her for the lack of punctuality, telling her that everyone else had managed to get there on time, even with the location change, so, _why couldn't she_?

Which explained why she was so surprised when she reached her destination to find the doors wide open and – the best part – no teacher in sight.

She sat on the first aisle seat she could find, on the fifth row down from the doors, next to a group of senior girls whom she'd never seen in Drama Club before. She'd barely settled on her seat when a male voice greeted them from the back of the room, making all the students turn on their seats to look at the tall, dark-skinned man who was standing at the doorway.

He strutted down the aisle like he owned the place, stopping right in front of Tris. After a brief moment of appraisal of the students scattered in front of him, he smiled, clasping his hands together as he said, "I'm David Smith. I'd tell you to call me 'David', or even 'Dave', but it's been brought to my attention that this is, well, lame." A wave of giggles filled the room, and something about him suggested that he was doing his best not to laugh along. "Before we move on to introductions and other equally cringeworthy, first-day-of-school things, why don't we all move closer to the stage?"

The auditorium remained completely silent at first, as the students processed the fact that that man they'd never seen before was their new teacher. Then, someone got up and started following him down the aisle, which seemed to be enough to break the daze of the rest of the class.

A flurry of movement followed, with textbooks being snapped shut and conversations resuming as everyone made their way towards the first rows. Just as she'd expected, given the 'cool teacher' vibe he was giving off, Mr. Smith chose to sit on the edge of the stage, looking at his pupils with the same amount of interest as they stared at him – except that he seemed to see them as a new Lego set, while they were more concerned about what circle of hell he'd put them through that year.

"Okay. Let's tackle the elephant in the room first, shall we? Mrs. Calloway had to step back from Drama Club for entirely personal reasons, that aren't in any way relevant to us." He smiled knowingly, and Tris could have sworn that he was looking at the exact girls who'd been gossiping about their old teacher only a few seconds earlier. "As for me, I went to school here, not that many years ago, and after I graduated, I went on to study my ass off – and then I _worked_ my ass off – because I wanted to become a director. Which I did. So, when Principal Kelly needed someone to take over Drama Club, he gave me a call, and I couldn't say no to that offer, could I?"

Nervous giggling and hushed whispers followed. Even Tris, who didn't absolutely hate school, doubted she'd be this eager to come back after she'd graduated – much less to come back as a _teacher_.

"Now, if we're gonna be working together for the next year, I'll need to get to know you all a bit. So why don't we start with names, and we'll work from there?"

Tris was sure that every single student in the room rolled their eyes in response, but that didn't stop Mr. Smith from making them all get up from their seat and say their name and for how long they'd been in Drama Club. After they'd all introduced themselves, the teacher announced that they were going to do a quick exercise, explaining that he had some ambitious plans for them, but first, he needed to see if they'd be able to pull it off.

The rules were simple enough: he'd call a few people over to the stage and give them one of the many scenes he'd prepared for the class. After being assigned the roles, they'd have a minute or so to read the script, and then, they'd have to perform it in front of everyone.

As it turned out, the repertoire ranged from _The Breakfast Club_ to _Mean Girls_ ; from _The Lion King_ to _King Lear_. Large groups, performing scenes from _Friends_ or _School of Rock_ , were followed by love declarations from _Pride and Prejudice_ and _Gilmore Girls_. Sarah B. and Sarah C. got called in for a scene from _Heathers_ , and the actual Heather had to perform the opening from _Breakfast at Tiffany's_. Eric stunned students and teacher alike with his raw rendition of _Hamlet_ 's monologue, while Jake and Hannah butchered the ending of _Casablanca_ , until finally, Mr. Smith announced he'd be calling the last two names of the day, and Tris froze on her seat when he called her onto the stage.

She'd been quite lucky thus far, only getting called in for scenes where she didn't have to pretend to be in love with someone she barely knew, but something in the way her teacher was going through his notes told her that she wouldn't be getting a 'get out of jail free' card.

"Mr. Coulter, care to join us?"

Tris took a deep breath, trying to pretend she wasn't unhappy with her teacher's choice. Eric Coulter was one of the people who'd been in Drama Club last year, but he was so closed-off that sometimes she thought he was a complete jerk. She couldn't imagine herself interacting with him, much less falling in love with him, no matter how drop-dead gorgeous every girl in school seemed to think he was.

"I have some pretty big shoes for you to fill," Mr. Smith said, handing them a sheet of paper. "But from what I've seen today, I'm sure you can do it justice."

She heard Eric curse under his breath when he looked at the script in his hands – and she'd have sworn, too, if she was that type of girl, because the title on the header claimed that they'd be performing a scene from _Titanic_.

And as much as she liked that movie, she knew that nothing good could possibly come from it.

They both skimmed over the script – Tris knew that scene by heart, because it was her favourite in the whole movie, and Eric seemed to be more concerned about how to use their limited resources to create the appropriate setting. When Mr. Smith told them to get set, the boy just dragged her to the wings, telling her to follow his lead before he walked onstage, and she could only hope he knew what he was doing.

"Action!"

She took a deep breath and walked onto the stage. Eric remained frozen in place, and although she could only see the back of his head, she was sure that he was staring thoughtfully into the imaginary ocean, just like the script said he should be.

"Hello, Jack," she said, her voice trembling as if she'd never set foot on a stage before. She didn't know why she was so nervous, but some of that feeling dissipated when he turned back to look at her, his whole face lighting up when their eyes met.

They were in this together – and he was a damned good actor, if she'd ever seen one.

"I changed my mind." She walked up to him, not daring to break eye contact. She'd watched that particular scene so many times that she could almost hear the wind and the ocean and the intro to _My Heart Will Go On_ , and she could almost picture herself walking across the deck of the ship. "They said you might be up-"

Right on cue, Eric shushed her, reaching out for her. "Give me your hand," he said, pulling her a little bit closer to him than he probably should have – but unlike what she'd expected, the proximity didn't feel awkward. He smiled at her, his thumb grazing over her knuckles in a reassuring gesture she didn't expect from him. "Now, close your eyes." He paused for just enough time to give her a chance to hesitate before insisting, "Go on."

She glanced over at the end of the stage, less than a foot away from them, and as she closed her eyes and let him guide her forward, she thought that all the trust falls in the world couldn't compare to what she was doing at that moment.

"Now, hold on to the railing," he said, letting go of her hands so that she could grab the invisible railing in front of her, while he placed his hands on her waist. She'd never been this close to a boy before, and she wasn't sure if she liked the way his touch made her feel – because it made her crave for more, when she knew that she shouldn't.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, and she desperately wanted to say no, to open her eyes and run out of the auditorium and never come back.

But she wasn't Tris; she was Rose, and despite Tris' feelings towards Eric, Rose was in love with Jack. So, she brushed her own urges aside, and gave him the answer that Rose would have given.

"I trust you."

His breath on her neck sent shivers down her spine as he took her hands again, stretching their arms at their sides – thank god, she wasn't standing on an actual railing, where she'd probably have to lean on him. His fingers travelled up her arm and down her back before he grabbed her waist again, resting his chin on her shoulder and telling her to open her eyes.

She pushed back the whirlwind of feelings that were threatening to overwhelm her, doing her best to convey the awe that the scene required. "I'm flying!" She didn't even need to fake being breathless, and she couldn't help but wonder if Kate Winslet also felt this giddy during filming. "Jack!"

The script they'd received ended there, but she knew what came next, so it was with actual relief that she heard Mr. Smith yell, "Cut!". Eric's hands let go of her in what felt like less than a second, and before she even knew what was going on, he'd already jumped down from the stage and got back to his seat.

* * *

Eric had lived in the same building for his whole life, yet the girl who was waiting for the elevator when he came back from the gym was an entirely unexpected new face – but she wasn't a complete stranger to him, either. In fact, he could place her in a very specific setting, which involved that painfully corny scene from _Titanic_ \- a memory so vivid that he could almost describe the smell of her shampoo or the way he'd felt the muscles in her stomach tense up when he wrapped his arms around her waist, or even the burning need to kiss her right before Mr. Smith yelled 'cut'.

If it was anyone else he knew from school, he'd just pretend not to recognize her – or even go to extremes like taking the stairs, just to dodge the uncomfortable small talk that was sure to follow. But after that excruciatingly intimate scene they'd performed only three days earlier, he felt like avoiding her wasn't an option, so he paused his music, even bothering to take out both of his earplugs before he approached her.

"I know you from school, don't I?"

The girl looked at him, her face going through so many emotions all at once that he found it hard to tell what, exactly, went through her mind just then.

Not that it was hard to notice the way her cheeks her cheeks turned pink when he spoke. In fact, it was much harder to explain why the word 'adorable' crossed his mind at that sight.

"Eric, right?" she asked, daring to look him in the face, and it was his turn to feel embarrassed, because in spite of all the unspeakable things he'd imagined doing to her, he had absolutely no idea what her name was.

"I'm sorry, I'm horrible with names," he said, trying his best to sound appropriately apologetic. "I do remember you're _not_ called Rose."

She laughed, and he had to stop himself from sighing in relief at the fact that she didn't seem to think he was a complete asshole for not remembering her name.

"I'm Beatrice." She paused, her eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. "But you can call me Tris."

"Tris," he repeated. "I'll try to remember that."

* * *

When Tris walked into the auditorium, Mr. Smith was perched on the stage, having _the most_ enthusiastic conversation with Eric. After their unexpected meeting last Saturday, she knew he was more than capable of being friendly, but still, the interest written all over his face was such a weird sight that she was almost curious to know what they were talking about.

But she wasn't curious enough to pause _Nirvana_ , nor was she the nosey type of girl, so she just picked a seat on the third row and opened her US History textbook, determined to get rid of at least part of her homework while she waited for the Drama club meeting to start.

Her concentration was disrupted when someone tugged on her earplug, and she looked up from her assignment to see Eric plop down on the seat next to hers.

"How're you doing, Tris?"

She felt a strange rush go through her body at the thought that she liked how her name sounded when he said it, and she'd barely had the chance to recollect herself and tell him she was fine, thank you, before Mr. Smith jumped down from the stage, greeting his students in the overly enthusiastic fashion that seemed to be his normal way of speaking. Eric's smile faded as soon as the teacher started talking, and by the time he finished explaining the first exercise of the day, the boy looked like he was about to die from boredom.

She'd never noticed it before, but the sudden shift in his mood made her think of the dark and brooding male leads from what seemed to be every high school movie ever made, and she wondered if his perpetually uninterested demeanour was just for show. As a result, she found herself stealing glances at him for the rest of the day, telling herself, time and time again, that she was just trying to understand the handsome boy who seemed to think he was above all that, and yet never failed to give his heart and soul at every exercise Mr. Smith threw at them, no matter how silly or absurd it seemed.

When the class ended, Mr. Smith gathered his students on the stage, announcing that the exercise from the previous week had been a huge success, and he was delighted to inform that they'd be doing _Romeo and Juliet_ that year.

Just as Tris expected, the girls behind her exploded in giggles, but even that wasn't enough to drown out the groan that came from Eric – who'd somehow ended up standing right next to her.

She looked at him, almost surprised that he'd chosen _that_ moment to express an emotion, and when their eyes met, he muttered, "I fucking _hate_ Shakespeare."

Tris was about to jump in the writer's defence when Mr. Smith piped in, "Good thing no one's forcing you to audition, Mr. Coulter." He gave the boy a stern look that didn't quite suit his light-hearted tone, then added, "Although I do strongly advise you to."

The reactions from the people all around them were enough to make Tris want to hide in a hole in the ground, but Eric just kept staring defiantly at the teacher, his clenched jaw being the only thing that indicated that he wasn't as unaffected as he looked.

"On that note-" Mr. Smith spoke up, and the students fell mostly silent again. "Auditions. Last week's exercise gave me a pretty good idea of what the cast should look like, but who knows? Theatre is full of surprises, and it wouldn't be the first time an intended cast differs from the perfect cast. So here's what we're gonna do: I've left the scripts for the auditions in the back row. Take them home, study them, and bring your A game next Wednesday."

With that, he dismissed his class, and they all rushed offstage to gather their belongings. Tris had barely managed to get past Erich to get to her things when Mr. Smith called out, "Mr. Coulter, a word? You too, Miss Prior."

They looked at each other and, with a dramatic sigh, Eric sat back down on his seat, throwing his backpack on the floor by his feet. The students trickled out of the auditorium, and after the last one had left, Mr. Smith motioned for Eric and Tris to follow him, as he walked up the aisle and closed the doors.

"I'm sure you both know why I asked to talk to you in private." He smiled. "So let's cut to the chase. You two have the kind of chemistry that directors would kill for, and I'll be damned if I let this go to waste by casting you as anything but Romeo and Juliet."

Tris was vaguely aware that her jaw had - quite literally - dropped, but she was too shocked to move the muscles required to close her mouth. Being offered a role without ever auditioning for it was a huge deal - it was one of the things that separated the regular actresses from the superstars, in her book -, and the fact that said role was one that people would go their entire careers without landing only made the offer feel sweeter.

"There's just one little problem," he warned. "All that chemistry was more than enough for Jack and Rose and a scene that ended before you had to kiss, but if I cast you as Romeo and Juliet, kissing onstage will be the easiest part of your jobs." He sighed, looking at them like that was the hardest conversation he'd ever had in his entire career. "We're talking about two characters who kill themselves in the end, because they can't imagine living a life without one another, and unless you're comfortable around each other, you won't be able to pull _that_ off."

"And what do you expect us to do?" Eric asked, as if he was offended by the very idea of having to put any kind of effort into getting that role. Mr. Smith smiled at him, in a way that suggested that he'd love to put his most belligerent student through as much hell as he could get away with.

"Same thing I expect from everyone else - wow me to the point that I'd never forgive myself for casting anyone else."

* * *

Tris was lying on her bed, trying to read her mom's old copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ while an old episode of _Friends_ was on her TV, when a knock on her window startled her, and she put down her book to see Eric, standing in the fire escape and waving at her like there was absolutely nothing absurd in that whole situation.

"What the heck are you doing here?" she asked, cracking her window open just enough that he could hear her.

"I came outside for a smoke – you see, my parents don't know about that – and I was thinking about what Mr. Smith said earlier, y'know, about us needing to get to know each other-"

"That's not what he said," she protested.

"Wow, no offense, but you suck at reading between the lines." He laughed. "Anyway, as I was saying, I really need to get that role, and I figured, if I'll have to make out with someone in front of the entire school, I'd rather make out with you than with one of the Psycho Killers."

She rolled her eyes. "Wow, no offense, but for someone like you, you do suck at being flattering."

"You only say that, 'cause you've never seen me try." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "And what the fuck is _'someone like you_ ' supposed to mean?"

Tris could feel her entire face burning. Talking about boys was embarrassing enough when she was surrounded by other girls talking about their own crushes, and she'd rather _die_ than tell a boy that she'd noticed how all the girls in school fell at his feet.

Especially when, as he'd pointed out, she'd be expected make out with said boy in front of all of her friends – or worse yet, _her parents_.

"You know what I mean, Eric," she replied, hoping that he'd fill in the blanks and leave her alone.

Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and insisted, "No. I don't."

She sighed and looked away from him, deciding that if she refused to answer for long enough, he'd have no choice but to give up and go on about his life. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stepped away from the window, looking almost _wounded_.

"Fine, then. Since you don't want to cooperate, I'm going back home to prepare for my audition. If you change your mind, my place is right up there. Two floors up." He pointed up, towards his bedroom window. "If not, then I'll see you in school tomorrow."

* * *

Eric had returned to his bedroom exactly forty-two minutes earlier - not that he'd been counting, of course. He'd almost given up on expecting her to change her mind and show up on his doorstep, convinced that he'd read her all wrong, when he heard a hesitant tapping on his window, and he spun around on his chair to see _her_ , standing in the fire escape, looking like she regretted every single one of her decisions that led her to that moment.

"When you said, 'get to know each other', you meant...-"

"In a purely platonic way, of course." He smiled. Truth be told, he refused to believe he was the only one who'd felt the overwhelming sexual tension between them, and he wouldn't mind exploring any other possibilities, if she was up for it. But he'd seen enough of her to know that she was the shy, uptight type, and he knew better than to try anything that might offend the girl he hoped to share a stage with for the rest of the school year.

"Wanna come in?"

Eric stepped back, taking her hand to help her jump over the windowsill. He'd lost count of how many times he'd done that - way before smoking on the fire escape ever became a part of the picture, ever since he and Maddie realized that, if they got in and out of their bedrooms through the window instead of using the front door, they'd be able to see each other after curfew.

That discovery opened up a world of possibilities, which grew less innocent as they aged. Every single _Harry Potter_ book since _Prisoner of Azkaban_ had been read, debated, dissected under the shelter of her blanket shoved into the gap between her door and the floor. His bedroom held the movie nights where they watched the creepiest horror movies they could get their hands on, followed by meaningless conversations until sunrise, because they were both too scared to sleep. An excursion to the roof on a summer afternoon resulted in them sharing their first kiss, and years later, they lost their virginities on the night before the moving truck arrived, ready to take her and her things to Wisconsin.

He thought he'd never get to do this again, and yet here he was, welcoming into his life the new Girl from Two Floors Down.

And he knew – although he'd never be able to explain why or how, but he knew – that they would be nothing short of _epic_.

* * *

 **AN** : Look who's back after nine months!

I'm so sorry I've been away for this long. One year ago I was going through so much (emotionally), and it all caught up with me eventually. It took me a while to get my shit back together and all, but. Now. I. Am. Back.

Anyway, I never actually planned on writing about how they first met, but here we are. Before I wrote this, I hadn't watched _Titanic_ in eighteen years, but the idea of Eric and Tris performing _that scene_ popped up in my head one day and refused to leave until I'd written it (and watched the movie again, just to make sure that I was doing it properly).

Please don't forget to leave a review telling me if you love it, hate it, are angry with me because I should be writing _Dissident_ (wink, wink, Boyfriend). Oh, and ideas for things these two can go through are also welcome!

Thank you all so much for your support! I'll see you in the next chapter!


End file.
